


blood & ink-black swans

by tinuviel_tinuviel



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Gen, Vampire AU, can i get uhhhhhh nonromantic interaction between the kids, fair bit of angst but friendship too!, steampunk inventor dex, vackers are royalty, vampire hunter sophie, vampire keefe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinuviel_tinuviel/pseuds/tinuviel_tinuviel
Summary: “I think there’s something nearby,” Linh whispered.She shook her head. Tam hated how tired she looked. Tired, and small. “It’s the voice again. I think. It’s quieter, but…”“It’s still there.” He squashed a surge of frustration. “Well, at least it’s being helpful this time. Do you know how far?”She stopped walking, putting out her hand to halt him. The rain ran over her fingers and into her face as she tilted her head back. “It’s… near. A quarter of an hour’s walk, maybe. But--” she stiffened, her nails digging suddenly into his arms. “But there’s danger nearby, too.” Her eyes flew open, sharpening as she looked at him. “Be wary.”He pulled his arm back, unsettled. “Danger nearby. Got it.”Tam and Linh don't have a destination, they have a direction: north, away from their pursuers and their past, and hopefully towards a new life where the twins can live in safety. Sophie and Dex think they have a good thing going-- two cousins, slaying vampires and evading the law. That's all about to change.





	1. it's raining and life sucks

The rain pounded the road to mud beneath Linh and Tam’s feet as they trudged north. The panic that had been sizzling through Tam’s veins since the morning was fading, diluted by the relentless rain. No one would be chasing them in this weather. He tilted his head to look at his sister, water running down his neck. Her head was hunched, her hood pulled low over her face. Water dripped down her face and from the hems of her sleeves and muddy cloak.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, nudging her arm. Her chin trembled. The only response was the pattering of raindrops and the squishy stomp of their boots. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” he said.

She wiped her face. “Yessitwas,” she mumbled.

“It wasn’t,” he said sharply. “If the Vackers hadn’t--”

“Don’t!” she said. He bit his tongue. At least she was talking now. “Don’t blame him for this,” she begged.

“Fine.” He squinted through the downpour, searching for any sign of shelter in the distance-- lights, noise, the dark silhouette of buildings. They had been walking in the rain all day. As the light faded, he became acutely aware that if they didn’t find somewhere to rest soon, they would be out in the rain all night, too. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It wasn’t safe to be out after dark this far north; this was vampire country. He patted his sides, feeling the lump of garlic-filled pockets under layers of fabric. Of course, he and Linh had taken every precaution they could: stocking up on garlic, hiding wooden stakes in their boots, bandaging her bleeding arm as tightly as they could, painting the mark of vampire-hunters on their wrists. The ends of their hair still hung heavy under the weight of silver-coated ends. But all the precautions in the world didn’t dampen the fear that thrilled through him when he saw the white swan-neck curve of a vampire warning painted on leaning fence posts and dripping mile markers.

“I think there’s something nearby,” Linh said softly. Tam shook water from his ears, unsure if he’d misheard.

“Pardon?”

“There’s--” she gulped, squeezing her injured arm. “I think there’s something nearby,” she repeated.

“Are you guessing, or…?”

She shook her head. He hated how tired she looked. Tired, and small. “It’s the voice again. I think. It’s quieter, but…”

“It’s still there.” He squashed a surge of frustration. “Well, at least it’s being helpful this time. Do you know how far?”

She stopped walking, putting out her hand to halt him. The rain ran over her fingers and into her face as she tilted her head back. “It’s… near. A quarter of an hour’s walk, maybe. But--” she stiffened, her nails digging suddenly into his arms. “But there’s danger nearby, too.” Her eyes flew open, sharpening as she looked at him. “Be wary.”

He pulled his arm back, unsettled. “Danger nearby. Got it.”

The sharpness faded from her eyes and she shivered, shoulders hunching again. “We should walk fast.” They did, despite the protests of their exhausted bodies and leaden feet. There was something nearby, Tam reminded himself. Someplace safe and dry. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to. He’d sleep in the straw of a stable. He’d sleep in an outhouse if it came to that-- anywhere out of the rain, that had space for two.

“I think I see it,” Linh said in a low voice, lifting a finger to point. Ahead, Tam saw a dark mass shrouded in rain and the gathering dark of evening.

“That big building?” he asked, slowing. She nodded. “Do you know who lives there?”

She shook her head. “Please walk faster.”

“Danger about. Right,” he said. “We’re almost there.” He squeezed her shoulder, ignoring the water dripped down his arm as he did. They approached the dark building side by side. The closer they got, the more Tam realized how large it was. It wasn’t quite a castle, but a manor at least, and an old one. Built from stone, with narrow windows and thick doors. To keep out vampires, he realized. The people that lived up here must be familiar with the smell of garlic and the weight of silver in a way he wished never to be. He rapped on the door and waited.

A few minutes later, the door opened just wide enough for a girl in a maid's plain dress to peer out. "Who are you?"

"Tam and Linh Song," Tam said, his heart sinking at the hardness in her eyes. "Please, we need somewhere to spend the night."

"Have you been walking all day?" she asked sharply. They nodded.

"We have nowhere else to stay," Tam begged.

She hesitated, then opened the door for them. "I'll ask his lordship. But be on your best behavior. And if he says you can stay, you better be out as soon as possible. Don't overstay your welcome."

"Thank you," Tam said, stumbling in. Her lips thinned to a line.

"Save your thanks until it's been earned."

The hall echoed with their footsteps as they followed the maid to the lord’s parlor. Tam was intensely aware of the trail of water they left behind them. Linh slipped a hand out from under her sopping cloak and squeezed his fingers. If the master of the manor approved of them, they would have somewhere safe and warm to spend the night-- perhaps several nights. These walls could defend them from anyone who pursued. The thought of warm baths and soft sheets made Tam’s legs ache.

The maid opened the door and stood aside. Dripping and small, Tam and Linh entered the parlor. To Tam’s surprise, the figure sitting before the fire was not a grey-haired lord, but a boy, sitting strangely still in stiff mourning clothes. He looked up as Tam and Linh stopped at the edge of the carpet, and his face brightened.

“Marella?” he said. “Do we have dinner guests?”

The maid appeared behind Tam, making him jump. “No, my lord. They only need a place to stay the night.”

Dinner sounded wonderful, Tam thought, but if the maid thought it would be too much to ask he would starve in silence. He cleared his throat. “My sister and I have been walking all day. We’ll be gone before you know it,” he promised. “We beg your generosity to let us spend one night out of the rain.”

“Oh, don’t worry about overstaying your welcome,” the boy said, waving a hand. “Make yourself at home!” Relief washed over Tam. “Marella, why don’t you take their wet things and then they can sit by the fire and warm up a bit before they tell their story.”

Obediently, Tam and Linh shrugged out of the water-logged cloaks, unwinding scarves from their necks and pulling off sweaters. A faint whiff of garlic escaped their stuffed pockets. The lordling tensed. The maid, Marella, filled her arms with as much wet fabric as she could carry. “Behave,” she hissed to Tam and Linh, then strode out.

“So, what brings you to this part of the country?” the lord said, back stiff and straight.

Tam glanced at his sister. She gave the slightest nod. “We were kicked out of our homes,” he said, the words bitter in his mouth. The lord’s shoulders fell a fraction of an inch.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, bending forward. He was on the edge of his seat now, his slender hands gripping the armrests. Tam’s gratitude was slowly melting, replaced by… apprehension. The lordling’s skin was smooth as porcelain. Despite his mourning clothes, nothing about his demeanor suggested sorrow, only alertness and an intense curiosity, almost a-- Tam’s breath hitched-- hunger. Slowly, Tam felt for his garlic-stuffed pockets and reached in, wafting the scent. The lordling’s nose wrinkled and he shifted, suspicious eyes raking over him. His high collar had shifted, too. Tam grabbed Linh’s arm, pulling her toward him. _There’s danger nearby_. Stars above. He pressed his mouth to her ear. “It’s him.”

The lordling shot to his feet, eyes narrowing. Under his collar, the firelight exposed the end of a raised white scar, curved like a crescent moon, or a swan’s neck. A vampire bite. “Linh, get out of here,” Tam said in a low voice. She took a step back.

“What are you doing?” the lordling said. “You weren’t really kicked out of your homes, were you?”

Tam didn’t know what set the vampire off. One moment, he was by the fire, taut as a drawn bowstring, features cut like a statue's; the next, he lunged towards them, a flurry of movement, eyes wide and wild as a beast’s. Tam dove in front of Linh, whipping a wooden stake from his boots with an inhuman yell. Behind him, the maid shrieked. Footsteps pounded away and Tam blessed every saint he knew that Linh hadn’t stopped to scream out his name, or try to fight. If there was one thing she’d learned in fifteen fearful years, it was how to run. Tam slashed at the vampire with the dagger-sharp stake, making it recoil, and then his back hit the floor. All the air left his body-- the wooden stake went flying -- fangs flashed-- and then darkness.


	2. food makes things better

Linh woke up weeping. She didn’t know where she was or how she got there; a tearing pain in her heart drove all thoughts from her mind. She twisted into a ball, rattling sobs forcing their way out before she could even think what sorrow was crushing her lungs and burning through her veins. Like a roiling storm cloud, all she could do was curl up inside of herself, cowering and waiting for it to pass.

It was a trick Tam had helped her with-- finding a single, tiny, safe place in her mind when the voices hissed and wailed. _Tam_. She’d left him. The last thing she had seen was the vampire flying at them and then she’d turned and run _like a coward, like a little spineless traitor to your own blood, you filthy witch_. The voice reared in her mind like a snake and she twisted, spine arching, eyes squeezed shut. She hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t meant to, but he had said _run_ and she trusted him, she would do anything for him _except stay and fight, except try to save him._ Her nails dug into her palms so tight she might be bleeding _you deserve to bleed_ _Tam bled and died so you could save your sorry skin_ \--

“Lady?”

She and the voice froze at the sound. The storm broke and her body went slack, sprawling on the bed. She was on a bed, tangled in soft sheets. How did she get into a real bed? Whose bed? Whose voice?

Something brushed her shoulder. “Lady? Can you hear me?”

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. A boy stood by the bed. For a second, fear knifed through her, remembering the lord of the manor, with his pale skin and moonlight curls, but this boy had freckles and pimples and dirt smudged across his face, and his shaggy hair, pushed back by a pair of thick goggles, gleamed like copper wire. After a moment, another voice whispered, _Good soul_. She released a shaky breath.

A bright smile lifted the corner of the boy’s mouth. “You’re awake! I brought you some food,” he said, in a broad northern accent, lifting a tray she hadn’t noticed he was holding; it held a thick slice of bread and a steaming cup and a little clattering contraption that cradled an egg. “There’s some gooseberry-bread and chamomile tea and the mecho-cooker should have the egg ready in a hot second. Do you want it now or should I leave it on the nightstand?”

Linh nodded mutely, sitting up and holding out her hands for the tray. The wood grain of the handles was as comforting under her fingers as the brush of his knuckles. She opened her mouth to thank him, but the words choked in her throat.

“Well, enjoy,” he said. “If you need anything, a whistle will sound as soon as you take the egg out of the mecho-cooker. So, um, you might want to eat it last.” He rubbed his hands on his oil-stained pants. “I’m still working on that part.” With another bright smile, he left.

Linh pulled off a chunk of goose-berry bread and stuck it in her mouth, taking in her surroundings as she chewed. The room she was in was barely longer than her bed, with one window and one door. A wood-burning heater squatted in the corner, like a coal-colored toad, but it was empty and the floor beneath it was clean of ash; it was a pleasant temperature, and the autumn sun shone through the window. There was a quilt on her bed, and a fluffy pillow behind her back.

 _How did I get here?_ she asked.

 _Fled like a coward_ , whispered one voice. She shoved it aside.

 _Ran through the rain_ , said another.

 _You slipped and slid north, through the storm, chasing the scent of safety_.

 _We collapsed against the door and fell inside when it opened_. She nodded, feeling shreds of memory quicken like embers in her mind. She had fear and cold coursing like poison through her veins, and she hadn’t eaten all day. She must have passed out. She finished off the gooseberry bread and emptied the cup of chamomile tea, relishing its warmth in her throat and belly. It was so lovely to be warm and dry at last.

 _Tam should be here too._ She bit her cheek to keep from crying out, eyes stinging. The cup fell from her hand, clattering onto the tray and spilling the last few drops. The ocean roared in her ears. Shoving the tray aside, she drew her knees to her chest, feeling grief crash over her again, a headache building from the pressure of holding in tears. The dam burst. She slipped below the surface, sobbing, burying her face in her arms. With a _thunk_ the mecho-cooker tipped onto its side and the egg rolled out.

The contraption gave a shrill whistle. Linh’s head shot up. It whistled again, like a kettle starting to boil. Outside, footsteps thumped. She scrubbed her face with her sleeve, hiccuping. The door burst open and the boy appeared, swinging on the doorframe. The mecho-cooker shrieked. He snatched it off the tray and fiddled with it, pushing several pieces in on themselves and collapsing the spidery machine into a stubby capsule of cogs and wires. The whistling stopped. “You called?” She stared at him. His bright smile dissolved when he met her gaze. Her face must be red and blotchy. “Are you alright?” What would Tam say if he were here? _It’s not bad to cry_. _Maybe someone will feel sorry for you_. _If nothing else, it could clear your head_.

“No,” she whispered, and then she was dragged under once more, and after a moment of wide-eyed uncertainty he pushed the tray to the ground and wrapped her in a hug as she cried.

 

Dex was in his workshop, mashing garlic into paste, when Sophie arrived, holding a star-shaped gadget in her mechanical hand. She strode in, letting the door bang shut behind her, and tossed it onto the table. “This started going haywire this morning, which historically either means that you have something important to tell me or you’ve screwed something up in the lab again.”

Grinning, he stretched out one arm for a half-hug. His other hand still gripped the garlic-masher. “Nice to see you too, cousin.” She begrudgingly allowed the hug.

“So it was a lab screw-up?”

His grin vanished like a rabbit down a hole. “No. You know Keefe?”

The girl’s lip curled. “Know Keefe? Like I know the back of my hand,” she said, flexing her fingers like she had fantasies of strangling someone. Tiny gears clicked in her mechanical hand at the motion.

“He’s turned up again,” Dex said grimly. “And you won’t like where.”

“He’s _what_?”

Dex dropped the garlic-masher and shrugged out of his apron. “There’s someone you need to meet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i get a hug for linh in the groupchat  
> 


	3. murderous new friends also help

Dex paused outside the girl’s door. “Are you wearing your gloves?” She shook her head, pulling leather gloves from the pocket of her tunic and pulling them up to her wrist. Only the thinnest sliver of metal could be seen above her right hand. “Try not to scare her, Sophie,” he begged. “She seems like she’s been through a lot.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promised, eyes boring into the door.

Sighing, Dex pushed the door open. “Lady? I brought someone who wants to talk to you.”

At the sound of the door, the girl tensed, pulling the sheets up to her chest, eyes wide as Sophie strode into the room. Dex winced. His cousin was near him in age, but she looked far older, with ramrod posture and a soldier’s step. Her eyes were brown as an eagle’s wing, with the sharp features and pitiless gaze to match. The cascade of wheat-blonde hair and loose white blouse did little to soften her appearance. Honestly, the robot hand probably wouldn’t have made that much of a difference.

Sophie stuck out her gloved hand, apparently oblivious to the fear in the girl’s eyes. “My name is Sophie.”

“Linh,” the girl squeaked, gingerly shaking her hand. “You’re-- are you a vampire hunter?” Sophie turned to Dex, eyebrow raised sharply. Dex shook his head.  _ I didn’t tell her _ . “I, uh, saw the mark on your wrist,” the girl said. Dex was impressed. She was observant; Sophie’s sleeves hung long enough that she couldn’t have caught more than a glimpse of the end of the tattoo.

“Nice to meet you, Linh,” Sophie said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Yes, I’m a vampire hunter. I heard that you had valuable information?” The girl hunched her shoulders, letting her hair slip down to hide her face from Sophie’s steely gaze.

“I don’t know-- I’m not--” she shot Dex a desperate look. Overwhelmed. 

Time to intervene-- he pushed himself past Sophie, giving his cousin a  _ look _ . “I’m so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself!” He flashed her a reassuring smile and then nudged Sophie until she scooted away, making space for him and giving the girl some breathing room. “I’m Dexter. But you can call me Dex! I’m Sophie’s cousin. Slightly younger, slightly more attractive, you know how these things go.” Neither Sophie nor Linh smiled. Ah, well. “She’s been looking for the vampire you ran into, and I was hoping--”

“I didn’t  _ run into _ him,” the girl said. Her hair fluttered in her uneven breaths. “I lost everything to him.” She swiped at a tear that escaped her eye, and Dex lifted a hand to pat her shoulder, a sympathetic knot in his throat. But she caught his wrist, blocking the gesture of sympathy. Sweeping back her hair, she turned to Sophie. Before, her expression had been shattered, sorrowful; now he saw something new. Strong, and vast as an ocean. For a second, Dex felt a spark of fear  _ of _ her instead of  _ for _ her. “You’re a vampire hunter? You want to hunt this vampire?”

“If it kills me,” Sophie swore.

Linh set her jaw. “Then I’m coming with you.”

 

Dex unrolled a map across his work table, weighting the corners with dirty dishes and half-finished mechanicals. “We’re right here,” he said, pointing. “This is the main road from down south and here’s the last town you would have passed. Do you think you could find the castle where you saw him?”

The girl examined the map for so long that Dex wondered if she’d heard him. Then she tapped a little inked castle keep. “That’s where we saw him.”

_ We. _ Now wasn’t the time to question her about the encounter, but he filed away the information regardless. She had been with someone else. She was alone now.

Sophie’s eyes were fixed on the map. “Foster Castle,” she said softly. “That bastard.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dex said. “If you hadn’t started hunting in the area, I would’ve expected an infestation years ago.”

“Why?” Linh asked.

Dex glanced at Sophie, treading carefully. “It’s further south than most other vampires go, and close enough to town to feed-- not to mention it’s one of the most defensible buildings around. It outlasted a two month siege before it was abandoned.”

“By your family?”

“How did you know?” Sophie asked, lifting her head. Fear flashed across the girl’s features.

“It, uh, you said Foster was your last name, so--”

“No,” Sophie said, “I didn’t.”

The girl bit her lip. She clearly hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Maybe Dex told me?” Dex shook his head, refusing to play along. Linh seemed nice enough, but his trust had a limit. “Then I must have heard your name before--”

“Keefe killed my parents,” Sophie cut in. “He was my best friend when we were children. Almost family, until he was bitten.” Her voice shook.

“Sophie,” Dex said, but she raised her hand, eyes fixed on Linh.

“We tried to take care of him, but you can’t care for a vampire. Every bright thing in them has been burnt to ash. Same face, but the soul was gone-- the goodness, the humanity.” Her voice rose. “He killed my parents. He tried to kill me. And then he vanished. I’ve hunted a dozen vampires since, but never heard a clue of what had happened to him-- until that  _ bastard _ set up in my parents’ home.”

“I’m sorry,” Linh said.

Sophie squared her shoulders. “That’s the story of Foster Castle; now, tell me how you knew about it.”

“Promise you won’t tell the Vackers about me,” she begged.

“The royal family of Everglen?” Dex asked.

“I’ll tell you,” Linh said. “I’ll tell you everything, but you can’t tell them where I am, or what happened.”

With a glance to Dex, Sophie nodded. “I swear. On my blood and breath.”

“I do too,” Dex said.

Linh’s shoulders sagged. “The voices told me.”


	4. is the human body supposed to have this much blood in it?

Blood had such a particular shade of red. Distractingly bright, like poppies, a color that hadn’t flickered beneath Keefe’s skin in years. And now it was smeared all over his hands and his face and his throat and the body before him, shining, burning, pooling,  _ bloody _ red.

Keefe jerked back in shock, the bleeding body in front of him coming into sharp and sudden focus.  _ Oh no. _

“Marella?” he said, his voice cracking. “Marella?” He whirled, eyes wild, and she was right there, jabbing a long silver candlestick at him. He hissed, stumbling back at the burning cold the silver gave off, and she advanced, waving the candlestick. His back hit the wall and he slid into a corner, half from cooperation and half from instinct. 

“You stay  _ right _ there,” she ordered. Dropping the candlestick to keep him pinned there, she turned to the bleeding boy, setting to work with an armful of rags and bandages. Keefe watched, frozen like a marble statue, as Marella soaked yards of fabric in the blood welling from the boy’s body, more blood that anyone could possibly lose. The warm metallic smell was almost overwhelming. Marella’s pulse was loud, ticking frantically; underneath that, the sound of the boy’s pulse was so faint he thought he might be imagining it.

“I told you to behave,” Marella said without turning her head. “I  _ knew _ something like this would happen if we moved back here.”

He twisted his cloak in his hands, nails ripping through the dark fabric. The smell of blood was enough to make him crazy. “Is he going to survive?”  _ Please let him live. Please give him back to his sister. Please don’t give me another face to see in my nightmares. _

“I don’t know.” She pulled a pair of silver sewing scissors from her apron and cut the boy’s blood-soaked shirt free. “I need water.”

“I can’t-- I’m so sorry--”

She saw the silver candlestick she had laid to trap him and cursed, wiping her hands on her skirts and sprinting from the room. Without the sounds of her breathing and pounding heart, the room felt cavernously empty. The boy’s heart was beating, but barely. Dread sank claws in his chest.

Marella returned with a pitcher, sloshing water across the carpet as she dropped to her knees by the boy again.

“He’s not going to recover,” Keefe said. “His pulse is too weak.”

Marella didn’t turn to look at him. “Then we need to keep him alive until he turns,” she said grimly.

“Can you do that?”

“I’m not a witch doctor! I’m a maid, I never thought I’d be-- trying to save a person’s life, I don’t know how--” Her busy hands faltered, and Keefe felt guilt crash over him. Marella was the closest thing he had to a friend, reckless enough to put her life in his hands by coming to work and good-hearted enough to believe that he wouldn’t hurt on purpose. But he knew the only reason she had sought work with a  _ vampire _ was because she needed money to care for her mother, and there was a limit to what he should ask of her. This was too much. He hated putting her in this position. “The moon was full last week, right?” she said, her voice low. “How long until the new moon?”

“Twelve days,” he said. If the boy was still alive in twelve days, he would turn. But at the rate he was losing blood now, he’d be lucky to see tomorrow morning.

Marella squeezed her eyes shut, scrubbing her bloody hands on an already blood-stained rag. “You need to find Elwin.”

“I haven’t seen him in years,” he warned.

She twisted, fixing him with a fierce stare. “I can keep him alive for two, maybe three days. Find Elwin and  _ beg  _ him for a healing elixir. It’s the only way he might survive until he can turn.”

“I’ll find him."


End file.
